


we were crazy, tragic and epic and so amazing

by killianslonghaul



Series: I'll always wear the crown that you gave me [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Birthday, F/M, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 16:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killianslonghaul/pseuds/killianslonghaul
Summary: Gina fixes him with a look that’s nearly exasperated, but it’s definitely tired at the very least. “You’re in love with Clarke, and she’s in love with you. And I’m just in the way.”It takes him a second to register what she’s said, but his automatic reaction is to shake his head. “She’s not, Gina. It doesn’t… we’re just friends.”Or Bellamy's perspective of Clarke's birthday in "I'll always wear the crown that you gave me"





	we were crazy, tragic and epic and so amazing

**Author's Note:**

> if you've read I'll always wear the crown that you gave me, this is Bellamy's perspective on Clarke's birthday and their conversation the next day. The parent of this story is probably my favorite thing I've written, and I just wanted to add to the universe. I also might do something from Octavia's perspective at some point, but I wanted to do this one first. I would definitely recommend reading the parent story first :) Hope you like it!

_we were golden, we were fire, we were magic_  
_and they all knew our names all over town_  
 _we had it made in the middle of the madness_  
 _we were neon in a grey crowd_

* * *

 

It’s not like Bellamy didn’t know that Clarke’s birthday was coming up. The date is one that’s been etched into his mind since he was fourteen, and it’s been marked on their calendars every year since Octavia was ten, usually adorned with hearts or stars or something.

Still, when Octavia starts a conversation three weeks before its arrival, Bellamy is shocked that it snuck up on him, shocked that even with her relative absence lately, he still managed to let her birthday get so close without him noticing.

“Since she’s turning 21, I figure we can just take her out for the night, maybe get her one of those signs to hang around her neck with a list of things to do. She’s drank before but, you know… it’s a rite of passage, basically.” Octavia sits down on the other side of the couch from him, and he feels like she’s watching him closely. He doesn’t glance over at her, just in case.

“You can save the speech. You gave it to me two months ago when you turned 21.”

She grins. “Cool. So, that sound good?”

He hesitates, hating that he even has to ask the question, but he isn’t as sure about what Clarke does these days. “Is that what she wants?”

Octavia’s eyes sharpen and she’s staring at him in a way that is becoming increasingly prevalent. He can never quite place it, but he thinks that it’s just her way of trying to decipher if he’s okay, if missing Clarke is actually going to drive him crazy or not.

“Yeah, it is.” She gives him a half shrug, and now there is definitely pity in her expression. “I know you miss her, Bell. She misses you, too.”

He nods, no words forming on his lips as an all too familiar ache settles into his chest. He does miss her. Ever since earlier that year, when she changed her major against her mother’s wishes, she’s been busy more, so often that he rarely gets to see her. He texts her every now and then, tries to keep up with what she’s doing, but it isn’t the same as having her around all the time.

Thinking back, he can’t even remember the last time he actually saw her in person.

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

Octavia smiles, her gaze breaking away from his face and focusing on the TV.

Bellamy stares down at his lap for a while, though, thinking about grabbing his phone and texting Clarke, ask her how her weekend is going so far, check and see if she has any projects she’s working on. Is that too much, too desperate?

He doesn’t know anymore.

His screen flashes and he almost expects to see Clarke’s name, but instead it’s Gina calling him. He knows he should probably answer it, but decides against it. The sadness coiling in his stomach is settling deep and he’s sure she’d be able to sense it. She’s pretty perceptive about things relating to him, usually.

The only thing she hasn’t figured out is that he’s in love with his sister’s best friend.

\------

When he and Gina get to Octavia and Clarke’s apartment on the night of her birthday, Clarke is trying to put an earring in her ear, brows furrowed in concentration. He thinks he sees her glance their way, but she seems much more interested in pouring a round of shots. She downs her before anyone else can even touch one, and he grins at her.

“Little fast there, huh princess?”

“I can handle it,” she tells him, and her eyes narrow in on the tiny box in his hands.

“I thought we established presents this year were buying me drinks downtown,” she says with halfhearted distaste, but he can see the curiosity in her eyes. He shrugs, trying not to show that he’s actually nervous now, wondering if she’ll still appreciate the gift even though she had tried to tell everyone not to worry about them this year.

“I’ll still buy you drinks, too. Promise,” he says, and it seems to satiate her because she takes the box from his hands.

Bellamy watches in silence as she opens it, picking up the tiny paint palette charm inside of it. He’d come across it only a week ago, sitting in display case at the jewelry store down the road, and he figured it would look nice on her bracelet that he’d gotten her. Now, he tries to assess her reaction as she holds it up to eye level.

It takes a second, a moment of her staring at it, but then she smiles. It’s small, just the tiniest upturning of the corners of her mouth, but it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I always wondered if you’d ever add to it,” she says, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. His heart jumps hard in his chest.

“Well, I figured major life events were good. Graduation, changing your major to something that you actually want to do…”

Her grin widens and then suddenly she’s there, tucked underneath his chin with her arms around his waist. He hugs her back, trying to keep himself from holding too tightly, from blabbering about how much he’s missed her as the warmth of her body surrounds him. It’s been so long since he’s seen her, much less gotten to touch her, so he’s starting to wonder how he’s ever going to let her go when Octavia speaks.

“So, one more shot for the road?”

Clarke pulls away, and he doesn’t dare look at Gina for fear that she’ll see through him, see that just being near Clarke is making his head spin.

(He was stupid, _so stupid_ to think that he could ever get over her.)

“Here, I’ll put it on for you,” he says to distract himself, hands reaching for the charm. He attaches it easily, barely even thinking about the way his skin buzzes where it touches hers, and then they head over to where Octavia is pouring another round of shots. They all clink their little glasses together and he tries not to look at Clarke, tries not to keep checking to see if she’s looking at him, if it’s her eyes that he feels following him.

It’s probably not. He’s probably just making it up.

When Octavia hands Clarke a plastic crown to wear out for the night, he watches her pin it into place with a smirk on his face. She keeps her eyes on him, too, a playful glare in them.

Once she seems content with its placement, she points an accusatory finger at him. “Bellamy Blake, even think about touching this crown and I swear to God—“

A burst of laughter escapes him before he can stop it, and when he catches sight of Gina’s raised brow, he shrugs, trying to maintain some semblance of a casual expression. “Try to tug a girl’s crown off one time, and she remembers it for a lifetime, apparently.”

Gina’s head tilts, eyes curious, but Octavia is ushering everyone out the door, so she doesn’t have the time or space to ask whatever question was hiding behind her expression.

(Probably for the best.)

\------

Clarke is already pretty tipsy when they leave, so by the time they’ve gone to a couple of bars, she’s tripping over her words and her feet, giggling every few seconds in a way that only drunk girls can manage. While Raven, Octavia, Wells, and Lincoln all seem to be doing just fine themselves, she attaches herself to his side as if she needs him to function. She latches onto him when they move to another bar, using him to keep her balance as she walks, pressing her laughter into his chest, arm snug around his waist or hooked tightly through his elbow.

She pokes his rib at one point, grinning up at him. “You’re my favorite, you know.”

He laughs, biting on his lip to try to hide the way her words are echoing in his mind. “You’re my favorite, too, princess.”

“I meaaan it,” she drawls, and he has to look away from her smile, from the way her eyes are shining as she looks at him. “You’re my favorite person, like, _ever_.”

“Thanks babe,” Octavia says dryly from Clarke’s other side, looping their arms together.

“I love you, too, O,” she giggles, leaning a bit toward Octavia for a minute, pressing a sloppy kiss into her cheek. Octavia scrunches her nose, but lets Clarke hold onto her for a second, arm wrapping around her shoulders. It doesn’t last—some seconds pass and then she’s clutching tightly to Bellamy once again, tucked into his side like she belongs there.

Bellamy nearly forgets Gina even came with them, but a little after midnight, she pulls him to the side while everyone else has walked in the direction of the bathrooms. “Hey, I think I’m going to head home.”

He feels his cheeks flush almost immediately, guilt rushing through his veins because he knows it’s his fault. He should have at least tried to make sure she was having a good time, too. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’m the shittiest boyfriend ever.”

Gina shrugs, her smile sad. “No, it’s okay. I’m just… ready to head out.”

He can tell that there’s more, that her mind is working overtime on _something_. After a glance over his shoulder to make sure that everyone else is still absent for the moment, he takes a deep breath. “Is everything okay?”

She seems as if she’ll shrug it off for a moment, but then her eyes lock with his and she shrugs again, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t belong here with all of you.”  

“That’s not true,” he tells her, guilt accumulating higher by the second.

Gina fixes him with a look that’s nearly exasperated, but it’s definitely tired at the very least. “You’re in love with Clarke, and she’s in love with you. And I’m just in the way.”

It takes him a second to register what she’s said, but his automatic reaction is to shake his head. “She’s not, Gina. It doesn’t… we’re just friends.”

Now, she almost looks amused. “But you are in love with her.”

He opens his mouth to counteract it, but one look in her eyes and he knows that it’s pointless. He sighs. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like you, that I can’t… It’s not like it matters anyway. She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Gina’s eyes narrow. “I think you’re wrong. I think that’s why she stopped coming around, Bellamy. Because of me. I had considered it before, but… seeing her tonight, with less control over her expressions and words, now I’m pretty sure.”

He’s sure his confusion is still plastered on his face, but his heart is frantic, racing to an unknown destination. Taking a breath is almost difficult. It’s not true— he would have known if that was the reason. He knows Clarke, knows how she operates. She’s just been busy, that’s all. Plus, if Octavia knew, she would have told him, right? Or would that be breaking Clarke’s trust, to tell him that the girl he’s in love with loves him too, just because they’re best friends?

“She’s just been busy,” he says, part of his mind begging Gina to let it go. His chest physically aches, and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He doesn’t want to let himself think that there’s even a possibility.

“Bellamy, you’re not that stupid.”

Octavia chooses that moment to walk up, and Bellamy looks behind her to find that the other members of their group at the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention. “Why does my brother look like someone slapped him in the face?”

It takes him a moment to realize that, apparently, Gina isn’t going to answer.

“Gina thinks that Clarke… likes me.” The words seem to fall flat, but Octavia’s eyes flash, bright and aware and less under the influence of alcohol than he would have expected.  

“And I know that he loves her,” Gina adds quickly, but it’s the first time he registers that she doesn’t seem extremely upset or anything.

“It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t feel that way.” It’s all he can do to repeat the words, to try to maintain some semblance of reality in his head, to attempt to keep his world turning on its axis like it’s supposed to be. That’s what is easy. That’s what keeps him from going crazy.

“Well, at the very least, you love her. And I don’t want… I don’t want to be in this, not like this. Not when you’ll never look at me the way you look at her.”

He opens his mouth with every intention to argue the point because it feels like what he should do, but then he really looks at her.

And she’s right. It isn’t fair to her to be hung up on someone else.

He sighs, looking her in the eyes when he says, “I’m sorry. I do really like you.”

It’s not the best thing to say, he knows, but it’s honest and all he can think of at the time. Gina tilts her head, gaze surprisingly affectionate. “I know, I’m not mad, Bellamy.” She reaches out and squeezes his arm, leaning up to press a kiss to cheek and lingering for only a moment. “Good luck, okay? I’ll see you around. Bye, Octavia.”

She starts to just walk away, but he remembers that she rode with them downtown and grabs her elbow. “Hey, wait, please. Do you need help getting home?”

Gina shakes her head. “Already ordered the Uber, it’s outside. You guys have a good night.”

Once she’s gone, Bellamy turns back to Octavia, who has her arms crossed over her stomach. Her eyes are glued to a spot on the floor, hard and intense. “You love Clarke?”

He shrugs, but knows there’s no sense denying anything now. “I mean, yeah, but… it doesn’t matter. What Gina said isn’t true, right?”

Octavia’s expression shifts until it’s almost… sad? He can’t tell for sure.

“You’re an idiot, and I need a drink,” is all she says before she turns sharply on her heel and heads back to the bar, where Clarke, Lincoln, Wells, and Raven are clinking their cocktail glasses together. He follows slowly, settling next to the bar beside Clarke while keeping some space between them, if only to try to maintain his sanity.

He’s pretty sure Godzilla could come crashing into the bar and he wouldn’t realize it, his mind too far away, his emotions too thrown off balance. He watches as Clarke sips on her drink that he can tell is a little watered down, likely thanks to Lincoln or Wells, trying to think back on the past summer, on the way his texts had gone unanswered more often than not, how Raven and Octavia would show up on the weekends without Clarke with them.

The way Clarke had left his house so quickly on the night that Gina showed up, the day she’d officially changed her major. He had always just assumed she felt bad for supposedly crashing his date, but maybe that wasn’t it at all.

Clarke turns to him as if she’s just realized he’s there, grin wide as she offers him some of her drink. He takes a sip just to confirm that it’s nearly all sprite and not much vodka, and then hands it back to her. “You should probably drink some water,” he tells her, and she scrunches her nose.

“I’m just fine, Bellamy Blake, thank you very much,” she says, but she trips over her words a little, giggling when they don’t fall off her tongue correctly.

When she asks about where Gina went a few minutes later, he doesn’t tell her the truth. Not yet, not when she’s drunk, not when she might not remember the conversation anyway. So, he just tells her that Gina went home, that she was tired and ready to turn in for the night.

Clarke nods once, looking a little confused before she wraps herself around him, arm low around his hips, lips grazing his jaw when she whispers, “If I was your girlfriend, I don’t think I’d ever leave you.”

She seems to forget that she’s said anything as soon as she’s spoken, and he lets himself look down at her, for the first time letting himself really wonder if maybe Gina _was_ right. When she sees him looking at her, she just pokes at his cheek with her pointer finger and laughs, collapsing into his side.

Getting Clarke into bed once they’re back at the apartment takes both him and Raven—him getting her into her room, Raven getting her changed into PJs, both of them getting her settled in. He leaves water and Tylenol on her nightstand and, once he’s sure Raven has left the room for good, leans down and kisses her forehead.

She’s already nearly asleep, and he knows she probably won’t remember it in the morning, but he thinks he sees the corners of her mouth lift into a smile.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to give him hope.

\------

Bellamy wakes up long before anyone else in the apartment, and he spends nearly an hour reading lecture prep material before Octavia pads into the living room, settling next to him on the couch.

“My head kinda hurts,” she says, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“Crazy how that works when you don’t drink water.”

She groans softly. “You’re a jerk.”

He laughs, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Am I better if I make you some breakfast?”

She smiles, eyes still squinted. “Yes, please.”

Octavia settles herself on the counter while he cooks, silent for a long moment. “Are you going to tell Clarke?”

He doesn’t look up from the pan of scrambled eggs in front of him. “Are you?”

The pause that lingers makes him nervous, but eventually, Octavia sighs. “No, I won’t. But I think you should.”

And that’s the only things said until Lincoln comes in, thankfully redirecting the conversation. Octavia is whining about her headache and Bellamy is telling her she should have drank water when Clarke shuffles into the kitchen. She looks adorably rumpled, last night’s curls falling flat around her shoulders and the narrowness to her eyes showing evidence of her own hangover.

He smiles easily, easier than he would have thought considering that the moment he saw her, his heart burst into a frenzied beat. “Morning, princess. Hungry?”

The gratefulness is obvious in her expression when she nods, and when he hands her a plate of eggs she smiles before hopping onto the counter next to Octavia. He can hear them having their own little conversation, but he’s stirring another three scrambled eggs into the pan for Raven, trying to decipher whether or not he should say something to Clarke while making sure he doesn’t burn the food.

She’ll likely find out eventually, probably sooner rather than later, that he and Gina broke up. Whether or not to tell her the real reason is another question entirely. No matter what Octavia says about staying quiet about it, both of them keeping something like that from her would be difficult.

But maybe worth it.

Last night was the first night they had felt relatively normal in ages, and he doesn’t want that to be ruined for the possibility that she might want him, too. He spent an entire summer missing her—he doesn’t want to have to go through anything like that again.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly jumps when Clarke speaks, a little louder than when only talking to Octavia. “Did Gina make it home okay? I’m sorry she got tired.”

He looks at Octavia, who gives him the highest eyebrow raise she can muster through what he assumes is still a pretty nasty headache. He wonders how much of his inner turmoil she can sense, how much of his distress she can decipher just from the look he’s giving her.

Clarke looks back and forth between them, and he recognizes that she’s trying to figure out what she doesn’t know, what their looks are communicating. He can practically feel her brain working overtime, trying to fill in pieces that she doesn’t have, gaps in her memory that tequila and vodka sprites put there. “What? What’s up?”

“Yeah, yeah she did,” Bellamy says before she can question any further, slowing his actions of putting the eggs on a plate to buy him some more time before he has to look at anyone again.  

It’s quiet for a long moment while he does that, the silence falling and lingering, settling into the room and making his palms sweat. Octavia is the one who finally breaks it, and he hears her feet hit the floor as she speaks. “I think I still need some rest. C’mon, Lincoln, we can watch Netflix on my laptop in my room.”

Octavia and Lincoln disappear and the quiet returns. Unable to fathom looking at Clarke just yet, Bellamy takes his time washing out the pan and the plates that Octavia and Lincoln left, taking Clarke’s once she’s finished eating. He dries them slowly, puts them up in the cabinet behind her, wipes the counter a little, until finally, he leans back against the stove and lets his eyes slowly trail to her.

She’s still sitting in the same place on the counter, brow lightly furrowed as she stares at her lap, though now he can’t tell if it’s due to her thinking or due to her alcohol induced headache. What catches his eye, however, is that her attention seems to be focused on the silver charm bracelet on her arm. She’s turning one of the charms between her fingers absentmindedly.

He’s never seen her not wear this bracelet that he got her, not since the day he gave it for her a few years ago. Seeing it on her wrist always made him smile, because if her constantly wearing it was any indication, she loves it. Still, his stomach is in knots and he doesn’t know what to think anymore, so when he takes a step forward and reaches up to brush his fingers against it, he asks, “Do you really like this thing?”

Her lips twist a little, though it doesn’t quite look like a smile. “Bellamy, I don’t care for jewelry that much. But I’ll probably wear this bracelet every day for the rest of my life because you gave it to me.”

“Really?” Even as he asks the question, he realizes that she’s telling the truth. Clarke doesn’t wear jewelry. She has a necklace that he’s seen her wear a few times, one that her dad got her when she was little. Sometimes she wears earrings, but Bellamy is pretty sure she can’t own more than five pair. Yet, he’s never seen a day that his bracelet hasn’t been wrapped around her wrist.

Clarke picks her hand back up and toys with the crown charm again. “Yeah,” she says, and even though she doesn’t look up at him, even though she gives the tiniest shrug of her shoulders as if she’s trying to lighten the statement, he can feel the honesty of the reply.

He can feel himself staring, shocked at the realization that _him_ giving it to her is what makes it so special to her. He’s suddenly feeling like the room is way too crowded even though they’re the only two in it—his heart is pounding in his ears and he’s suddenly leaning much more toward saying _something_ , towards telling her the truth.

Because maybe Gina was right. Maybe he is an idiot.

The biggest one on the planet.

But maybe, even if she doesn’t feel the same way, it doesn’t have to ruin them. Maybe they’ll be okay. They always have been, after all.

He takes a breath, trying to figure out what words to use, how to approach what is probably the scariest thing he’ll ever do, the riskiest chance he’ll ever take.

(But he’s so in love with her, so completely in love with her, and maybe he should have done this a long time ago.)

“Gina broke up with me last night. That’s why she went home.” It’s not giving anything away yet, not giving her the truth of the matter just yet, but he watches her closely, wanting to gauge her reaction, to see if her response gives him any information.

Clarke’s mouth falls open for just a moment and then her brow furrows, her head shaking a little. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy. I—“

He can hear the guilt building in her voice, and he shakes his head before she can go too far. “It’s fine. It’s not like that or anything, and it wasn’t because of last night in particular, not really. It never would have worked anyway.”

“Oh.”

She’s not looking at him, even though he’s sure she can feel his eyes. It’s hard to read her, hard to break through the stoic nature of her expression. They’ve spent so much time apart, and now instead of being able to decipher her actions easily, he’s left trying to decide if this really is the best decision. He nearly backs out a dozen times, his mind screaming at him that it’s too much, that there is no way he can just casually tell Clarke Griffin that he’s in love with her.

(How does she not already know?)

“She broke up with me… because I’m in love with you, Clarke.”                   

Her eyes jump to his immediately, and her body flinches as if she’s been shocked. She’s searching him now, he can tell, eyes moving over his face as if she’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with him. Otherwise, she’s completely still.

And she doesn’t say a word.

He starts panicking a little in the silence, heart jumping into overdrive as he races to try to find a way to maybe take it back, to laugh it off, because that is _not_ the reaction he was hoping for at all. But he knows there’s no way to go back, no way to unsay the words that he’s spoken into existence.

So he rambles instead.

“It was just the way we were acting last night, I guess. You kept telling me… that I was your favorite person and… you kept hugging me and it… I guess she saw through any pretense I tried to keep up and called me out on it, but I think she knew before last night. That’s why it never would have worked. It’s always been you, I think.”

He figures she’ll say something to stop him, laugh it off herself and tell him he’s crazy, get angry because he’s throwing this on her while she’s hungover, punch him in the face. Something. _Anything_. But she’s still completely silent, her eyes still on him but now they look… almost cautious, like she’s waiting for him to pull out a knife and stab her to death.

It’s turning into his worst case scenario pretty quickly and he has no idea what to do about it.

He runs his hand through his hair out of habit, the words that tumble from his lips nearly incoherent, barely even sentences at all. “She told me that… she thinks you feel the same way, that she thinks that was why you stopped coming around so much lately, because of her. I told her she was crazy, but... But she seemed really sure, and then Octavia said she was right, too. Actually, Octavia told me I was an idiot, so… I don’t know. I guess I’m telling you, to see if it’s true. And if she was wrong, or whatever, it’s fine. You’re like… my best friend and I get that this is probably weird because we kind of grew up together but… If you don’t feel the same way it doesn’t have to change anything, and—”

“Bellamy.” Her voice finally stopping his is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, even before she continues. “You idiot, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

It takes a second for the words to process, for him to understand that the apprehension he thought he’d seen in her expression has vanished, replaced with a smile that is almost a smirk. He feels himself relax a little, his heart slowing to normal speed for the first time since she came in the kitchen to begin with.

“Really?”

Her nod is short, the barest movement of her chin. Her grin widens slightly, but she ducks her head like she’s trying to hide it. “I… sort of figured you knew, honestly. And I thought you just saw me as another little sister.”

“Maybe I did, at first.” He inhales deeply, glancing away from her while he comes to terms with what she’s said. His head is reeling, spinning a little with the understanding that she does love him, too. He gathers his composure and turns back to grin at her. “But I wouldn’t offer to kiss my sister.”

She shoves at his shoulder, and he smiles, but then he takes a minute, picks up her hand slowly, as gentle as he can manage. He doesn’t hold too tightly, doesn’t want to ruin something that he’s just found because he rushes into it.

“I’m crazy about you,” he tells her, meeting her eyes because she needs to understand how deep he already is, how deep he’s always been. “And I only even dated Gina because…  I realized earlier this year how bad I had it, and I didn’t want to risk what we had for just a chance that you might feel the same way, so… I was trying to convince myself I could get over it, you know? But then you stopped coming around and… I missed you so much, princess. Not seeing you drove me crazy.”

Clarke seems like she understands, turning their hands over as she smiles, looking far away for a moment. “I just couldn’t see you with her. It hurt too much. At least at first, but… not seeing you drove me crazy, too.”

He smiles just a little too, holding her hand more firmly now, hesitations slipping away. “Sorry that I was an idiot, princess.” 

She grins, nothing but happiness in this upturn of her lips. “Well, you’re here now.”

“Not too late?” he asks, shifting a bit closer.

She shakes her head and then pulls him all the way to her, between her legs where she sits on the counter. Her proximity makes his breath catch in the way like just before you make the first drop on a roller coaster. “For you? Never.”

Despite the way his heart is pounding and the excitement coursing through his veins, he leans in slowly, wanting to savor the moment. After years of imagining what it would be like to kiss her again, and years of wishing he could, he surprisingly doesn’t want to rush now. He’s slow in the way his lips press over hers, in how he trails his hands over her sides, fingers grazing her jaw, one hand taking up residence on her hip as she seems to tug him even closer, even further into the cradle of her hips. She doesn’t seem to be in a hurry either, her hands traveling leisurely over his chest, shoulders, and back, then up into his hair and scratching lightly into his scalp.

Getting lost in her kiss is effortless, so easy that he nearly jumps out of his skin when a voice speaks from just behind him.

“Fucking finally.”

He doesn’t let her go, just turns his head to look over his shoulder at Raven. Her eyebrow is raised and she seems in perfect health, no signs of post-alcohol misery anywhere in her expression or body language.

“Apparently I’m an idiot,” he tells her with a shrug, and even though he can feel how obnoxious his grin is, there’s no way he can rein it in.

Raven had never directly asked him about Clarke or how he might feel about her, but he’s always wondered if she had an opinion at all, or if she, unlike Octavia, had just kept hers to herself. Now, he figures she certainly had an opinion, if her answering smirk is any indication. She pats him on the shoulder as she reaches over to grab her food. “Hope you weren’t expecting an argument, Blake,” is all she says before slipping back out the kitchen door.

His laugh is nearly giddy, and he muffles it into Clarke’s hoodie, holding onto her tightly. She holds him there, resting her head on top of his. “You think my sister will say I told you so?” he asks her after a minute, shifting just enough to look up at her.

She laughs a little, her smile bright. “Maybe just a little.”


End file.
